


On The Tip Of Your Tongue

by SilverLynxx



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Intimate moments, Lynxx Needs Her Christmas Fix, M/M, Winter, hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16949484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: “I can’t possibly intrude on you and your family at Christmas, PT.” Phillip insists with a shake of his head.“Youarefamily.” His gaze softens at Phillip’s sharp yet almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Besides, Charity is taking the girls to her parents’ for Christmas dinner. I would appreciate you keeping me company if you’re amenable?”He can see Phillip wavering, biting his lip indecisively.





	On The Tip Of Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> This was perhaps the quickest and most spontaneous writing venture I've undertaken in years, but I am _all about those fluffy christmas fics_ , so unless I become That Person™ who writes Christmas fics in July, I have a deadline! Fingers crossed I can keep the momentum going \o/
> 
> Once again heroicly salvaged from the most ridiculous typos you can imagine by [@Schizanthus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizanthus), eternally indebted <3

Nestled amongst the tall city buildings, at a distance from the horse-drawn carriages, carollers, and festive crowds making their way home, Central Park is quiet and still in the deepening evening. Blanketed in a fresh mantle of snow that catches the light and glistens like a bed of stars, the air is crisp and undisturbed, until two joyous squeals sunder the peace.

Strolling through the park, warmly lit by the snow-capped lamps that line his path, Barnum dotingly oversees his daughters as they dash with delighted laughter into the untouched snow.

“Stay where I can see you,” Barnum reminds them, ensuring they don’t venture beyond the reach of the light.

They have the train home to catch, but he’d figured ten minutes to frolic in the snow wouldn’t hurt, and he adored seeing his daughters’ faces light up like they did now.

He’s almost tempted to join them.

As he ambles along after his gambolling children, warmed with contentment and invigorated by the whisper of Christmas in the air, he almost overlooks the solitary figure coming towards him. He glances up just the man passes and jerks to a halt in recognition.

“Phillip?”

The other man turns around mid-step, the lower half of his face obscured by a long red scarf. “PT?” Phillip says through the wool, sounding pleasantly surprised by the chance encounter. He pulls the scarf down around his neck. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just at the market with the girls. Trying to tire them out in time for bed.”

“Oh…” Phillip looks past him to the children in question tumbling about in the snow. His partner arches his brow at him, and Barnum shrugs helplessly with a grin.

“It hasn’t worked in nine years, but I remain optimistic.” Their laughter rises in plumes of warm breath against the cold, and Barnum’s attention drops to Phillip’s briefcase. He glances back briefly at the way Phillip had come, his lone footprints distinct in the snow. “You’ve not just left the circus, have you?”

Phillip’s fingers twitch around the handle of his case.

“Just picking up documents to work on,” he replies casually, but Barnum’s expression falls into a bemused frown.

“It’s Christmas Eve, you shouldn’t be thinking about work. Weren’t you spending Christmas with your family?”

Phillip huffs, a dry facsimile of the laugh Barnum loved hearing around the circus; echoing through the tent, covertly overheard backstage, or resonating through their office when incited by Barnum himself. “There was a change of plan after a small disagreement with my father. I’ve been, in no uncertain terms, uninvited from the family celebrations this year,” Phillip informs him with a shrug. “So I’ll be celebrating in my apartment with a bottle of port and the requisite documentation we’ve been putting off.”

“No, that won’t do,” Barnum objects. “You’re coming home with us.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”

Phillip hesitates, like he’s waiting for Barnum to laugh at his own joke and send him on his way. Barnum cocks his head expectantly and waits for Phillip to realise it’s not a joke at all. Phillip starts. “I–Barnum, that’s very kind. But–I mean, you can’t actually be–that’s hardly–absolutely not,” he sputters at last, and Barnum regards the flustered younger man with amusement.

“And why not?” he queries, admiring the new rosy tint to Phillip’s cheeks which compliment his wind-nipped nose.

“I can’t possibly intrude on you and your family at Christmas, PT.” Phillip insists with a shake of his head.

“You _are_ family.” His gaze softens at Phillip’s sharp yet almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Besides, Charity is taking the girls to her parents’ for Christmas dinner. I would appreciate you keeping me company if you’re amenable?”

He can see Phillip wavering, biting his lip indecisively.

_“Phillip!” “Flip!”_

Both men turn at the shrill cries, the hasty _crunch, crunch, crunch_ of snow underfoot signalling Caroline and Helen’s approach. Phillip’s briefcase drops forgotten to the ground as he staggers under the combined weight and momentum of the Barnum children, a child clinging to each arm as they bounce and jostle him while chattering over each other in their excitement.

“Phillip!” “Flip!” “How long have you been here?” “Merry Christmas!” “Have you been to the market?” “Did you miss us, Flip?” “Daddy took us to the market!”

“Girls,” Barnum chides, knowing his voice is far too fond to be truly scolding. “Be gentle with Phillip.”

Two pairs of hopeful eyes turn back to Phillip, accompanied by eager, brilliant smiles. “Are you coming for Christmas?” Caroline asks breathlessly as Helen hops excitedly on his other side.

“Please, please, please, _pleeeaaase_ _,”_ Helen begs, tugging on his hand with an air of desperation. When Phillip looks up, perhaps seeking support, it’s only to see Barnum looking unreasonably entertained and watching the scene with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Well?” Barnum prompts innocently, and Phillip blows out a surrendering breath, a smile tugging on his lips.

“It would be a very poor show to disappoint anyone on Christmas Eve,” he acknowledges at last, and the knot of anticipation in Barnum’s chest loosens.

“Brilliant,” he replies, pleased. Stooping down to pick up Phillip’s briefcase, he brushes the snow from the leather as the girls cheer and pull on Phillip’s hands more vigorously, rousing laughter from the young man.

“Let’s get going then, shall we? Your mother will have me instead of the goose if we’re late.”  
  
Keeping hold of Phillip’s case, Barnum takes Caroline’s free hand in his while she holds on to Phillip with her left, and Helen maintains her firm grasp on Phillip’s other arm. Securely linked, they make their way towards the station, Phillip’s single trail of footprints lost beneath the new ones they put down.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The piercing sound of the steam whistle greets them as they mount the platform. Barnum can only share a wordless glance with Phillip before they’re each hoisting a child onto their hip and bolting down the platform towards the nearest carriage.

The train’s just rolling forward when Barnum gets the door open and hauls himself inside with Caroline. There’s just enough time to take hold of Phillip’s forearm and pull him aboard with Helen in tow before the train picks up speed and leaves the station behind them.

Heart thudding with the rush, Barnum closes the carriage door and leans back against the wall, catching Phillip’s eye and letting out a bubble of exhilarated laughter.

“Your mother doesn’t find out about that,” Barnum tells the girls in an exhale, setting them down and ushering them along the carriage to a free compartment.

He drops onto the padded bench with a sigh, lifting his arm for Caroline to tuck herself into his side. Phillip sits down next to her, Helen nestled in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder. Barnum takes in the sight with a familiar stirring in his chest, warm and sweetly aching as Phillip tucks a lock of hair behind Helen’s ear and lets her ramble into his scarf, listening with patient and unwavering attention.  
  
He’s so taken with the scene he startles when Phillip suddenly glances up, looking surprised to find Barnum watching him so intently. He clears the stopple of saccharinity from his throat and smiles tightly, nodding to Phillip’s case at their feet to bypass his momentary distraction.  
  
“You don’t go near that until the twenty-seventh, deal?”  
  
Phillip looks on the verge of protesting, but instead slumps back in his seat with a weary grin. “Deal.”

From there they converse quietly through the hour-long train ride, Caroline filling them in on the latest ballet troupe drama while Helen gradually falls asleep against Phillip’s chest. When Caroline gets distracted watching the winter-clad scenery and spattering of lights outside the window, her head cushioned against his side, Barnum takes Phillip’s attention for himself. They fill the hush of the compartment with quiet murmurs back and forth about the circus, the holidays, and finally the warm meal that awaited them.

Phillip looks close to dozing off himself when the train eventually shudders to a stop, and Barnum regretfully nudges him back to full attention. “We’re here,” he says softly, coaxing a somnolent Caroline to her feet as she rubs her tired eyes.

He takes Caroline by the hand and leads them out of the compartment, bracing her as she hops down onto the platform after him.

“Careful, it’s slippery,” Barnum warns as Phillip also steps down, adjusting Helen more comfortably against him once he’s safely on solid ground. Barnum then realises that his youngest is completely lax in Phillip’s arms and snoring gently into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise she was out completely. I can take her.”  
  
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble,” Phillip assures him, cuffing Barnum’s hands away until he finally relents with a huff.

“Fine, we’ll see how you’re doing once we get to the gates,” he retorts gaily, and starts the trek towards home, smirking when Phillip straightens in response to the lighthearted challenge.

“Yes, I’m sure a good fifteen years, or lack thereof, won’t influence a thing.”

Barnum rears back in hyperbolic offense. “Bringing a man’s age into it, Phillip, I’m appalled.” He laughs as Phillip knocks into him with just enough force to offset his stride, their antics accompanied by Caroline’s delighted giggles.

\---

“How are you holding up?” Barnum enquires as they pass through the wrought-iron gates, not even trying to mask his bumptious tone. Granted, Phillip was faring a lot better than he’d anticipated, but he attributed that to the more labour-intensive nature of the circus. Barnum had certainly witnessed and, silently, rapturously, appreciated the times Phillip had stripped himself of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves - baring shapely, rarely glimpsed forearms - to help haul shipments or manage the ropes. Even still, the man was noticeably starting to toil with the incline and Helen’s deadweight. 

“‘m fine.”

Barnum chuckles, assuming quite rightly the other man's brevity is to keep from revealing the labored quality to his breath.

“Almost there,” he reassures Phillip and Caroline both, squeezing his daughter's hand as they trudge through the snow towards the house. The tall windows glow warm and inviting against the night sky. “Ah, Charity must have seen us coming.”

Phillip lifts his gaze and they both look ahead to the slender figure silhouetted against the light pooling out the open door. “Helen, sweetheart, time to wake up, we’re home,” Barnum cajoles, Phillip jostling her gently until the girl stirs with a sleepy mumble.

They come to a stop once they’ve ascended the first set of stairs to the circular terrace so Phillip can put Helen down. Barnum then ushers his more spritely children up the last staircase towards their mother, who greets them at the top. He can hear the sweet, attentive tones of Charity’s voice as she receives her children with a kiss to their wintry cheeks and hushes their excited chatter.

“Into the house with you. Hang up your coats and warm up by the fire, we can have some hot cocoa and you can tell me all about the market.” The girls do as they’re bid and race, cheering, into the home, kicking up snow in their wake. Charity then turns to look at the two men stood at the base of the steps; Barnum meets her eye with a wordless exchange. She looks from him to Phillip, and Barnum follows suit, smiling fondly as Phillip offers Charity a bashful wave. “Mrs Barnum, Merry Christmas.”

“Charity,” she corrects with a warm light to her eye. “Merry Christmas. Will we be having the pleasure of your company over the holiday?”

“Only if it’s not an inconvenience,” he replies quickly, and Charity laughs.

“Not at all, you know you’re always welcome.” Her attention returns to Barnum. “I’m sure Phineas will appreciate the company.” 

Barnum balks at the sweet, perfidious woman smiling down at him, and he begrudgingly acknowledges her percipience with a resigned nod of his head. Charity’s expression softens, but her felicity remains lambent.

“Don’t stay out there too long, I don’t want two sick crotchety men grumbling over Christmas,” she warns, before reentering the house and leaving him and Phillip alone.

He drifts towards the stone balustrade encasing the belvedere and looks out over the grounds. Bare trees stand tall and still, glinting with a layer of frost, and snow coats the ground like a tangible hush over the world. Soft footsteps indicate Phillip coming to stand by his side, and Barnum breathes in a deep icy breath.

“I'm happy for you,” Phillip says suddenly, and Barnum gives him a curious look. “That everything worked out. Between you and Charity.”

His brow furrows, and Phillip clears his throat, looking embarrassed as he presses on when Barnum doesn't immediately reply. “I mean–I'm sorry if I've overstepped, I just figured having your family back, especially for Christmas, must be-”

“Charity and I are separated.”

Phillip's mouth drops open, his expression an interesting amalgam of bewilderment and horror. Barnum sniggers at the sight of it, which only distresses Phillip further.

“PT, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have been so callous if I’d known.”  
  
Barnum hushes him before the man can work himself into a state, so beautifully sensitive and empathetic over a plight that wasn’t even his own.

“It’s ok, really,” Barnum assures, even as Phillip looks at him with evident disbelief. He can see Phillip fidgeting with the urge to reach out, and he feels momentarily saddened that Phillip’s gentle nature, his instinct to comfort with touch and compassion, had been chokered by a forcefully instilled correctness.

“It was best for the both of us, and while we’re not together romantically, we didn't see the need to disrupt our day to day. The girls still have both their parents, their family home, and Charity and I still love and support each other as we always have done.”

He can see by the crease forming on Phillip's brow that the man is struggling to comprehend the unconventional arrangement, but he nods anyway with a quiet “I see.”

Barnum watches Phillip out the corner of his eye, trying to gauge the mood, until a flutter of white draws his attention upward.

“It's snowing,” he notes, stealing Phillip back from his fen of contemplation as he looks up, observing the thick flakes drifting lazily upon them. His heavy thoughts seem to lighten at the sight, and Barnum smiles, tipping his head back further and looking up at the sky.

He lets his eyes slip closed.

“... PT, what are you doing?”

Barnum peeks at Phillip with one eye, then withdraws his tongue as he looks at the bemused, adorably sheltered man with an equally heuristic interest.

“Surely you've caught snowflakes on your tongue before?”

“Can't say that I have…”

Barnum holds Phillip's gaze for a long moment before smiling. “You should,” he says, and with that turns his face back to the sky. He tucks his hands into his pockets and feels the snowflakes fall fatter and faster, chilling his skin with delicate touches.

After one, two, three beats, Barnum risks a glance, and his next heartbeat catches in his throat. Phillip stands like an essence of peace in a gentle flurry of snow; head tipped back, nose pink from the cold, snowflakes clinging to his long dark lashes, the tip of his tongue peeking out expectantly over his lower lip.

Barnum's drawn to a particular snowflake that sweeps down in a long arc, and he follows it as it lands with fateful precision on his partner's waiting tongue. It melts instantly against the warm skin and Phillip twitches in surprise, tongue darting back into his mouth as he processes the experience, his face relaying every evanescent emotion. There's an undeniable innocence to Phillip’s reaction that makes Barnum fall that little bit further.

A surge of amusement and affection escapes him in a ripple of deep laughter. Phillip’s wide eyes snap to him and he flushes deeply, trying to mask his embarrassment behind a pouting frown.

“Stop laughing,” Phillip grumbles, bunching his shoulders to disappear a little further into his scarf. Barnum puffs out a final chuckle and holds his arm out towards Phillip to gesture him forward.

“Let’s get into the–” a slighter, gelid hand slips into his, and Barnum stops. He looks down, just to ensure frostbite hasn’t done away with his senses, and indeed finds Phillip’s hand loosely cradled in his own, the one he’d intended to set against Phillip’s back as he guided him to the house.

His gaze lifts to search Phillip’s face, but he’s not even looking at Barnum. Instead Phillip’s staring fixatedly at the floor, lips pressed in a tight line and conspicuous clouds escaping his nose in short rapid breaths. He feels Phillip’s fingers twitch against his palm, and he tightens his grip just before the younger man can recoil, making Phillip’s breath hitch at the sudden possessive response.

Barnum silently holds out his free hand and Phillip takes it without hesitation. Bringing their hands together until he has Phillip’s cupped between his own, he starts to rub the pads of his thumbs along the backs of Phillip’s knuckles in a measured rhythm.

“Your hands are freezing,” Barnum hums, and Phillip merely makes a wordless noise of acknowledgement, his attention now resting on their hands.

“Phil.”  
  
The younger looks up at last, and those bright, beautiful, _brilliant_ baby blue eyes hold so much emotion Barnum almost can’t name them all; trepidation, awe, doubt, tenacity, delicate, fragile hope. Yet not a single glimmer of regret.

“Let’s get in the house,” he breathes again, this time keeping hold of Phillip’s hand as he tugs lightly and sets them off up the stairs.

The warmth of the home encompasses them completely as they step through the door, melting the snow clinging to their hair and dusting their jackets. They strip off their coats and scarves and hang them by the door, then he offers Phillip his hand. Phillip’s hand slots neatly into his and Barnum interlocks their fingers. Sure, safe, secure.

They share one more look, one more roseate smile, before Barnum leads them towards the den. Towards the sound of Helen and Caroline’s buoyant voices, part way through a Christmas carol, and Charity’s sweet wind chime laughter. Towards the sound of an inviting, crackling fire, and the perfectly complete family that awaited them.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the fic, comments are greatly appreciated <33


End file.
